A collection of musically themed musings by Brendan Bush in Burlington, VT

Earlier this month, my friend and musical mentor Aaron wrote about the relevancy of Neil Young’s timeless album On The Beach. I want to both acknowledge that post, as well as pay the album, and particularly the song “Vampire Blues” some respect.

Since I purchased their 2010 release Vol. 2 earlier this year, I’ve been incredibly impressed with Wooden Shjips. And they certainly give a strong tip of the cap to Mr. Young in their cover of “Vampire Blues.” Amidst the throbbing rhythms and pulsating beats of this, Wooden Shjips’ second album of b-sides and singles, comes a tale foretold so long ago by one of America’s rock greats.

“I’m a vampire baby, sucking blood from the earth” opens the song.

“I’m a vampire baby, I’ll sell you twenty barrels worth.”

I find it hard to even discuss the catastrophe that is the Gulf oil spill right now. It’s too hard to comprehend the emotions that I’m feeling. But I feel like if I could possibly turn up Wooden Shjips cover of “Vampire Blues” to the point where every oil man and politician in this country’s ears were bleeding, it still wouldn’t be enough.

Ed. Note: Brendan asked me to fill in for a few a few days. I’m happy to oblige.

Promotional photo for On The Beach.

With summer approaching and oil gushing from the sea floor, I’ve been thinking this week about a classic record. Neil Young’s dark, introspective On The Beach is a reminder that things can get messy.

Darkness abounds. In “Vampire Blues,” Young sings about the thirsty oil industry. Organs back his slow, hopeless romp. The words are prescient given our current catastrophe:

I’m a vampire, babe, suckin’ blood from the earth …
Well, I’m a vampire, babe, I’ll sell you twenty barrels worth…
I’m a black bat, babe, I need my high octane…
Good times are comin’, I hear it everywhere I go.
Good times are comin’, but they sure are comin’ slow.

Have a listen:

In spite of the doom and gloom, there are plenty of reasons to love this album.

The track you may know best, “Walk On,” kicks off the record with guitars moving from bright to chunky to whiny. And back again. It’s a pleasant-sounding recollection of good times with good friends. But the good times don’t last. Some friendships crumble and our protagonist sings that, “sooner or later it all gets real.” He looks back fondly but he knows when it’s time to move along.

The messy, sad beauty continues in other songs. “Revolution Blues” follows a paranoid militiaman or perhaps a cult leader. “For The Turnstiles” ends with the image of perpetually unsuccessful baseball players.

But summer brings an escape. In the album’s title song, Young reminds his audience that road trips can solve problems:

Get out of town, think I’ll get out of town. I head for the sticks with my bus and friends, I follow the road, though I don’t know where it ends. Get out of town, get out of town, think I’ll get out of town. ‘Cause the world is turnin’, I don’t want to see it turn away.

On The Beach is a beautiful record — recalling the politics and paranoia of a not-much-simpler era. It’s a solid classic for your collection.

It’s worth noting that this was a tough album to find a few years back. On The Beach and a few other Young records fell prey to the artist’s distrust of compact discs’ audio quality. An online campaign a decade ago called “Release On The Beach” sought to change that. You could illicitly download a set of scratchy MP3s from that early petition site (and I did). In 2003, On The Beach was among the first batch of Young’s older albums remastered to CD (and I was eager to buy it).